Engagement 3

The corridor swallowed their footsteps as they returned to the mansion together, the air cooler than the garden, heavier in a way that made Allenzio straighten his back without thinking. The polished floor reflected their movement in broken fragments, white walls catching the soft light from the chandeliers above. Seraphina’s fingers slid into his hand first. She was not hesitant. It was firm, almost deliberate, as if she had rehearsed the gesture. Allenzio responded on instinct, his grip steady but careful, aware of how easily this moment could be misread by anyone watching from a distance.

Her whisper came without warning, close to his ear, warm and controlled. “Can we treat all of this as pretend?” she said. “I’m only being kind so it won’t be hard for you to fulfill your mother’s wishes. Besides, Aunty Felsya has helped me a lot. I’ll make this engagement easy for us. But there’s a condition.” She paused, then added, “After the marriage, you have to follow what I want. Agree?”

Allenzio stopped walking. Not abruptly, but enough that Seraphina felt it through their joined hands. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable at first, jaw set, eyes dark and focused as if he were weighing something far more serious than a casual agreement. He was taller by more than a head, his posture natural and upright, shoulders broad beneath his tailored jacket. When he spoke, his voice was calm, almost gentle, as though he was choosing every word with care.

“I can agree to listen to you,” he said. “I can agree to follow you when it matters. But I won’t agree to pretend that everything between us is fake.”

Seraphina frowned, clearly not expecting that answer. She pulled her hand back slightly, not enough to break contact, but enough to test whether he would let go. He didn’t. His grip loosened instead, giving her space without retreating.

“Why promise to obey but refuse to pretend?” she asked, her tone sharper now. “Pretend. That’s all I’m asking. Just pretend.”

Her voice rose, cutting through the quiet hallway. Allenzio took a step forward, closing the distance, his free hand lifting slightly as if to steady the air between them. “Hey,” he murmured, lowering his voice. “Don’t speak so loudly.”

He leaned down just enough so only she could hear him. “I don’t want my mother to hear this. Not like this.”

Seraphina inhaled sharply, then exhaled through her nose, adjusting quickly. She leaned closer too, matching his volume with a whisper. “You said you’d follow me. Then do it. Treat this as pretend.”

He shook his head once, slowly. “What’s the point of pretending?” he replied. “I’m capable of giving real affection.”

The words surprised even him. He felt them land somewhere deep, a place he usually kept guarded and quiet. He didn’t know when he had decided that he could say something like that aloud, or why he was saying it now, to her. Seraphina stiffened, eyes widening for just a second before she masked it. She had never heard someone speak like that to her, not seriously, not without conditions hidden beneath the surface.

“Real affection?” she repeated softly. “You talk like that so easily.”

“I don’t,” Allenzio said. “That’s the problem. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant hum of the mansion filled the silence, the faint echo of voices from another wing reminding them that they were not truly alone. Seraphina closed her eyes, her lips pressing together as if she were swallowing something bitter.

“Fine,” she said finally. “I agree. On one condition.” She opened her eyes and looked straight at him. “You obey me. No hesitation.”

He nodded once. “I’ll follow you,” he said. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “I’ll be loyal to you too.”

Her breath caught, just barely. She looked away, pretending to examine the framed paintings along the wall. “Then we have a deal,” she said. “But don’t misunderstand. This doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Allenzio replied. “Trust isn’t something you borrow. It’s something you build.”

She glanced back at him, studying his face as if searching for a crack, a sign of arrogance or mockery. She found none. His features were sharp but composed, eyes steady, expression controlled yet open. He looked like someone who had learned restraint early in life, someone who had been taught to stand firm without raising his voice.

“This is strange,” Seraphina muttered. “You’re not reacting the way I expected.”

“How did you expect me to react?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Annoyed. Offended. Or angry.”

He let out a quiet breath. “I’ve had enough of those reactions for a lifetime.”

They resumed walking, this time slower, their hands no longer joined but their steps still aligned. As they passed the tall windows overlooking the inner courtyard, Allenzio caught sight of his reflection. The cream-colored shirt fit him neatly, the collar open just enough to soften his otherwise strict appearance. The white trousers and sleek black shoes gave him the unmistakable look of someone groomed for formality, for expectation. He wondered when exactly he had started dressing to meet standards he never chose.

Inside the living room, Felsya stood near the large framed family photograph, her fingers brushing the edge of the glass. Her smile was soft, almost wistful, as she looked at the image of her son captured in a moment of forced composure. “I’ve always given you the best,” she murmured. “Because you’re my precious son.”

She turned when she heard footsteps. “There you are,” she said brightly. “I was wondering where you both went.”

“We took a walk,” Allenzio replied smoothly.

Seraphina nodded. “The garden is beautiful.”

Felsya’s eyes flicked between them, lingering for just a fraction longer than necessary. “I’m glad you’re getting along.”

Allenzio gestured toward the sofa. “Would you like us to sit?”

They sat, leaving a polite distance between them. Seraphina folded her hands in her lap, posture straight, expression calm. Allenzio leaned back slightly, one arm resting along the back of the couch, not touching her but close enough to signal unity to anyone observing. His mother’s approving smile did not go unnoticed.

Later, as the conversation drifted to safer topics, Allenzio found himself studying Seraphina in quiet moments. She spoke simply, without embellishment, answering questions honestly but without revealing too much. There was something restrained about her, a carefulness that suggested she had learned to survive by keeping parts of herself hidden.

When Felsya excused herself to take a call, the room fell into an awkward quiet. Seraphina broke it first. “You didn’t have to say that,” she said softly.

“Say what?” Allenzio asked.

“That you could give real affection.”

He considered her words. “I didn’t say it for trick,” he replied. “I said it because it’s true.”

She laughed quietly, not amused. “You’re either very confident or very reckless.”

“Maybe both,” he admitted. “But I meant what I said earlier. I’ll follow you. I just won’t treat this like a lie.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “You’re strange,” she said. “But at least you’re honest.”

Honestly, Allenzio thought, had never felt so risky.

That night, after Seraphina had retired to the guest room prepared for her, Allenzio stood alone by the window in his own room. The mansion was quiet now, the kind of quiet that pressed in on him from all sides. He replayed their conversation in his mind, her demand for obedience, her insistence on pretending, and his own refusal to reduce what lay ahead to something hollow.

He had agreed to follow her, to submit in ways he had never considered before. Not because he was weak, but because something in her resistance intrigued him, challenged him. She did not want him. Not yet. And that unsettled him more than outright rejection ever could.

In another wing of the mansion, Seraphina lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words echoed in her head. Capable of giving real affection. She scoffed at the thought, turning onto her side. Men like him didn’t give affection without expecting something in return. She had learned that lesson the hard way.

Still, when she closed her eyes, she remembered how he had lowered his voice to protect their conversation, how he had stepped closer not to intimidate her but to shield the moment. She hated herself a little for noticing.

This engagement, she told herself, was a strategy. A temporary arrangement. She would use it to repay a debt to Felsya and secure her own footing. Nothing more.

Yet somewhere between the whispered conditions and the unexpected promises, something had shifted. Neither of them fully understood it yet, but both felt the weight of it settling in, quiet and unavoidable, like a door closing behind them with no clear path back.

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